


Scared, Potter?

by Drabbleshy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Harry Potter, Drabble, Drarry, Gay Draco Malfoy, M/M, Quidditch, Short, Tension, To Be Continued, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drabbleshy/pseuds/Drabbleshy
Summary: A short little Drarry story; it's a muggle-highschool!AU, written for a dear friend. Potter had just transferred to a new school and Malfoy... well, Malfoy is still a rich git who surrounds himself with douchebags. Enjoy!P.S. I am planning on making this a thing, an actual fanfiction, with multiple chapters and development and more Draco Malfoy being an ass.Find me on Tumblr @ drabbleshy.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lysfest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysfest/gifts).



“Scared, Potter?”

Those were just some of the words that Draco Malfoy had been using to torment him, ever since he had transferred to the new school. Admittedly, Harry had only been in this school for no more than a few weeks at that point, but that doesn’t deny the fact that his dislike for the silver haired man had only grown to a form of genuine disgust and hate. Loathing, he supposed. For his hair, his behaviour, his face, his... perfect eyes. What a strange colour they were. He had wondered if perhaps Malfoy was using coloured lenses of some sorts or if he was down with a severe illness, but nobody else seemed to question it, which had come off as strange. That whole man was strange. Harry looked around. He really should have been paying attention to class, (he found that he really enjoyed some parts of the English subject,) but his mind kept stubbornly drifting off to Malfoy. The bell was to ring any minute now, so he supposed that it didn’t actually matter either way.

His mind drifted from class to Malfoy and back several times during the day and even a few times during lunch. He didn’t understand what this obsession was; Malfoy was a rich git, a spoiled brat. His parents gave him everything he wanted, and Harry would bet you a thousand dollars that the Malfoy family was one without any worries in life. Still, it didn’t give Malfoy the right to act the way he did; he’d almost throw money around, insult everyone who didn’t agree with his standards to the Z, and he seemed to set himself the goal of breaking the heart of every girl in town. Harry just couldn’t understand how a person could do such things. It bothered him enough that he forgot to eat during lunch and ended up eating two candy bars between the next two classes.

Luckily, he had been able to avoid Malfoy almost the whole day today and the fact that the silver-haired man skipped two of the classes which they share certainly did no harm. Unluckily, the man still came to soccer practice, surrounding himself with his little henchmen. He’ll be darned if there comes the day when Harry Potter gives up football due to a few morons. He could outsmart them with the flick of his fingers.

Or so he thought. Harry ended up with bruises on his legs, and he had barely avoided getting his glasses smashed by the ball three times. The fourth time, it hit him in the forehead. Bruised and annoyed at the fact that they had somehow gotten away with it all without the Coach noticing, Harry just decided to call it a day and sat against the fence until everybody left the locker room. He sneaked inside and made sure that it was indeed empty, before taking off his sweaty shirt. The quietness satisfied Harry - he could take his shower in peace, finally.

Harry almost jumped as he felt a hand, one with long, thin fingers, gently drawing lines on his bare back. He didn’t move, thinking that he knew who’s wet fingers were touching his broad shoulders. The taller male leant in with a smile, a smirk, a grin, and whispered those words again, into his ear; “Scared yet, Potter?”  
That’s where it went wrong; Harry spun on his heel, grabbed Malfoy by his shoulders and thrust and pinned him against one of the lockers. Now, to say this situation was more sexualised than you realise might not make sense until we all, Harry included, realise that Draco Malfoy was not wearing anything but a small towel around his waist. And now barely even that. Malfoy had to press his hands against it, to keep it where it was, but Harry didn’t seem to care much. Their faces were inches away, noses basically brushing against each other with each deep breath that the two boys had drawn between the moments of silence. Malfoy desperately stared at Potter’s face and eyes for an explanation of his intentions, but nothing apparent came through. Harry took a deep sigh, Draco gulped.

“Scared, Malfoy?”

Harry let the man go and then, as quick as lightning, he picked up his stuff and disappeared through the door. With a grin. He could always shower at home.


End file.
